


Left Right Left Right

by dvs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes is a resilient badass, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sam is more awesome than you realise, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6887899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky just wants to hide at home. Steve gets blasted by a Hydra weapon. Sam is in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Right Left Right

**Author's Note:**

> Though the fic is set after the events of Civil War, it was written some time after Age of Ultron and panic-finished just before Civil War came out. I did worry it might have been Russo'd, but it doesn't seem to go too against the movie.
> 
> Note to self: write faster.

There was a record playing quietly, the same song for the tenth time. It wasn't really a record, since technology had eradicated the crackling sound and the need to get up just to play the damn thing again. No, Bucky was living in the lap of luxury here, his song set to repeat for infinity as he watched the almost white beige of the ceiling. Bucky wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the ceiling, but it felt like a very long time. His eyes were beginning to ache, but he couldn't quite stop staring. Until the knocking began. Bucky blinked, still looking at the ceiling, unmoving, the knocking continuing and becoming impatient.

“This week, on The Bucky Barnes Show,” Bucky whispered.

The knocking stopped, and Bucky's eyes flicked towards the small hallway. He waited, taking a drag of his cigarette before reaching out to tap it against the rim of a glass ashtray on the coffee table, returning his smoking companion to his mouth where it could continue hanging between lazy lips. He picked up the book that had been lying open on his chest and began to read. The knocking resumed.

Bucky sighed and dropped the book on the floor. At this rate he wasn't even going to reach the first shade of grey. He rolled off the couch, turned off the music, and sulked all the way to the door, pulling it open and glaring at the two men on his doorstep. Sam's t-shirt was torn in several places and there was blood on the knee of his sweatpants, palms looking painfully grazed. Bucky's eyes immediately moved from him to Steve who was hovering at Sam's side, face bruised, lip busted, t-shirt and track pants only in slightly better condition than Sam's clothes.

“Nope,” Bucky told them both.

Sam ignored him and limped into the apartment with a scowl. Bucky turned his attention to Steve, who had a tight look on his face. Bucky's shredded memories still felt like clips from a movie about someone else, but that look was familiarly pinched and miserable, somehow hard coded into Bucky’s broken brain.

“What'd'you do?” Bucky asked, giving Steve a long look. “Throw yourself on a grenade?”

Steve's mouth opened soundlessly and flapped back shut. He had the audacity to look betrayed. In a very grown up manner, not, he grabbed Bucky's cigarette from his mouth and threw it out of the apartment before stiffly following Sam's path. A little too stiffly, Bucky thought, watching Steve closely, his sculpted body moving heavy and slow.

“Mature,” Bucky called after him, hearing Steve mutter something rude under his breath. Language, you little punk, his tongue almost leapt ahead of his mind, but Steve wasn't so little, and you couldn't re-create the past based on echoes not quite remembered. Bucky settled on, “I do look forward to these little visits.”

Sam and Steve headed straight into Bucky’s bedroom. Bucky stuck his head past the door to see Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, shifting uncomfortably as he peeled off his t-shirt to reveal painful looking scrapes and scratches, one dark bruise blooming over his ribs. He prodded said ribs and grimaced, cursing under his breath, whilst Steve noisily rummaged around Bucky's bathroom.

“It's polite to ask a girl before heading straight for her bedroom,” Bucky said, trying to catch sight of Steve when the noise stopped, followed by a suspicious silence. When he returned his attention to Sam, the bruised Avenger gave him a look that managed to convey his current lack of humour. “Coffee?”

“Coffee's good,” Sam said.

Bucky left for the kitchen, keeping his ears tuned to the bedroom, hearing quiet concerned voices. They were both silent when they came out, something clearly weighing on their minds. Bucky placed a white cup each before Sam and Steve, which prompted them both to at the cups, before looking up at Bucky in tandem, and then looking past him at the new gadget in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Bucky stared at Steve's too tight shirt, and familiar sweatpants, Sam wearing jeans and sweatshirt that also didn’t belong to him.

“Why are you both wearing my clothes?” Bucky asked flatly.

“Why do you have an espresso machine?” Sam countered.

“There was a sale,” Bucky said. “That's a real nice shirt you're stretching there, Steve.”

Steve scowled down at the shirt, whilst Sam cast an eye over the apartment, which still looked like someone was only half-moved in, or possibly half-moved out. He was looking at the laptop on the coffee table, and the muted TV playing one of who knew how many shopping channels.

Turning back to Bucky, Sam said, “You know, you can't spend all your time locked up in here sitting around buying stuff you don't need off the internet and TV.”

“Why not?” Bucky asked. Sam looked as if he was about to argue why, but Bucky was going to nip it in the bud. “They deliver food _and_ dirty books to your door. I don't ever have to leave.”

“So you're just going to sit around drinking coffee and reading dirty books,” Steve said with a nod.

Bucky nodded back, flatly telling Steve, “Women writing dirty books has always been my jam. The future is everything I hoped for and more.”

“Your what?” Steve asked as Sam choked on his coffee, spilling half of it on the counter and inhaling the rest, coughing hard. Steve had a look on his face that said he was counting to ten. Ten times ten, in two lots, one for Bucky and one for Sam. He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it, turning around and walking away.

Bucky watched Steve take up a spot on the couch, looking far too preoccupied. “What’s up with your bae?”

“Excuse me?” Sam asked, clearing his throat.

“It's cute for sweetheart, short for babe,” Bucky answered.

“I know what it is, man, I mean, what the hell?”

“I got time on my hands, I read things.”

“Not just dirty books, huh?” Bucky shrugged. Sam shook his head and very quietly told him, “We just encountered a little situation.”

“I kind of figured that part out for myself,” Bucky said, watching Steve shift uncomfortably.

“We were headed over here to see if we could coax you out of your man cave, get you to buy us breakfast-”

“Not at six in the morning, pal,” Bucky said.

Sam paused for a second and continued. “We got ambushed.”

“Ambushed?” Bucky asked, raising his voice to get Steve's attention.

“I got shot,” Steve said simply from the other side of the room. He was looking at one of his hands, opening and closing it into a fist. “It was a blast of energy. Hot. Really hot.”

“We chased after them,” Sam said, “But they high-tailed it out of there.”

“Sounds like they were waiting for you,” Bucky said.

Sam was quiet for a moment. He turned his gaze on Steve and they shared a look, before Sam returned his attention to Bucky. “They were tailing us. We changed our route and I think it made them change their plan. Don’t worry, they didn’t follow us here.”

Bucky thought hard on that. Every Sunday, Sam and Steve turned up on his doorstep without fail. That counted as a pattern, one of reliability. He nodded at Sam, before looking at Steve and asking him, “How do you feel?”

Steve didn't answer immediately, which created a series of lines across Sam's forehead. He left the kitchen counter’s side to go stand in front of Steve, Bucky in tow. “What?”

Steve looked up at them both, shaking his head. “I dunno. But something.”

“Like?” Sam asked, his tone failing to keep out the worry.

Steve shook his head again. “I can't put my finger on it. Something just feels off. My bones hurt.”

“It's been a rough morning,” Sam said.

Steve swallowed. “I've had rougher. This is different.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, trying not to stare or give away the sliver of panic he felt when Sam glanced at him. “Looks like you better start making some calls. I'm going to go out and get us some breakfast.”

Steve stood up. “I can’t sit here and do-”

Bucky cut Steve off with an impatient scowl. Steve was jutting out his chin in a stupidly defiant manner. It definitely threw up a memory, a look on a bony belligerent face. Bucky nodded. “Tell you what. If I win, you sit back down and Sam gets the Avengers on to this, while I go get us some food. If I lose, I follow you out of that door.”

“Hey,” Sam said, holding up a hand. “Win or lose what?”

“Just a little arm wrestle,” Bucky said with a shrug.

“I'm not going to arm wrestle you, Buck,” Steve said, acting about two decades over his age.

“Don't worry, no unfair advantage,” Bucky said, waving flesh fingers at Steve. “Of course, if you’re scared and want to back down...”

Steve shoved past Bucky, going to sit at the counter, elbow propped and ready. Sam looked at Bucky and said, “I kind of hope he wipes that smug look off your face, man.”

“Of course you do,” Bucky said dryly. “You're in love with him.”

Bucky moved towards Steve, whilst Sam laughed and spluttered behind him. “What?”

Bucky snorted and shook his head. Steve seemed unaware of the exchange. In fact, he seemed distracted, as if listening to a sound only he was privy to. Bucky slipped onto the barstool and propped his elbow on the counter. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Steve said tightly, holding up his hand. “Let's get this over with, and get out there.”

“By all means,” Bucky said, clapping his hand around Steve's.

About five minutes later, Bucky strode down the corridor with Sam in tow, watching him pulling on his jacket and a baseball cap. Sam said, rather accusingly, “You knew you were going to win.”

Bucky turned and looked at Sam. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Birdman.”

Sam sighed, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “Is he going to be okay?”

Bucky adjusted his cap. “Sure he is, you just need to make sure he doesn’t get hurt between now and being okay. Who have you got on this?”

“I called Coulson,” Sam said, keeping his voice low. “He's got people tapping into surveillance to track down the guys from this morning. Nat's already out there. I’m just waiting for the call to pick these assholes up and bring them in.”

“Anyone else?” Bucky asked, receiving a shake of the head from Sam.

“Wanda and Clint are somewhere in location undisclosed, and last I heard, Thor and Vision are wrapped up in some inter-galactic gladiator games.” Bucky arched a brow. Sam waved a hand and said, “For fun, not end of times stuff.”

“None of that sounds insane,” Bucky said. “What about motor-mouth?”

Sam gave Bucky a look. “Let’s just say Steve’s not quite ready to impose on Tony just yet.”

“He's a pain in the ass, I hear you,” Bucky said with a shrug. “I never actually said I was talking about Stark.”

“Bucky, listen,” Sam said, lowering his voice. “I know what you're doing-”

“Good,” Bucky said. “So, let me. You stay with Steve, look after him. Keep him distracted so he doesn't get into trouble.”

“Distracted?” Sam looked offended. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Figure it out,” Bucky said, letting his gaze dart at Steve, his friend scowling in their direction. “There’s a bedroom here, it's not a problem.”

“Oh my god,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“Kids today. So sensitive,” Bucky said, slipping on a pair of shades. He turned around to see Steve had picked up his fallen book and was scowling hard at it, as if he'd never read a bad word in his life. Bucky darted into the living room, snatched the book and told Steve, “I'm not done with this.”

“Buck-” Steve started, but Bucky was already moving, waving goodbye over his shoulder, and walking past Sam, who probably for the millionth time told Bucky, “You know, I'm older than you, right?”

Bucky pulled open the door. “It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage.”

“You're an idiot,” Sam said, folding his arms across his chest. Bucky reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the TV remote, grabbing Sam's hand and slapping the remote into it. “Take this, wave it at anything that slithers.”

“I regret telling you to watch that movie,” Sam said as Bucky stepped out, closing the door behind him, He was a few steps down the hall when he heard Sam call out, “The whole place is slithering!”

Bucky stalked down the hall, muttering to himself, “That's Hydra for you.”

*

_This is different._

Sam tried not to dwell on the words, or the fact that Hydra weapons that zapped super soldiers weren't made to just make a man feel _different_. _Fuck_ , Sam thought, trying to hold back the worry before it began to unravel out of control. But how could he not worry? This was Steve. And...

_You're in love with the guy._

Sam pulled a face, shaking his head, muttering to himself. Maybe he had heard Bucky wrong. Maybe he had said _you love the guy_ , which was true. Everyone loved Steve, especially his friends. Even people who didn't know him, loved him. _In_ love. That was a whole different ball game. It meant thinking about things like the future, and wedding plans maybe, and Uncle Terrence who couldn't care less if this white boy was Captain America, and paparazzi, and...oh...the rest of the Avengers. Those bastards. They would be merciless.

“You okay?” Steve called from the living room.

Sam gave himself a mental shake and went to Steve, stopping in front of him, noting he was wearing a too placid expression. “Yeah. I'm good. You let that go pretty easy back there though.”

“We're going to follow Bucky,” Steve said. “He obviously knows something.”

Sam nodded, “How do I never see this coming? I mean, it happens literally every second I'm with you.”

“Sam, I'm serious,” Steve said, seriously, so much so that Sam could see his seriousness underlined, in bold _and_ italics. “I'm not sitting here doing nothing.”

“I get it, I really do,” Sam said, “but we have no idea what that blast did to you, and I get the feeling Bucky does. What if something worse happens while you're out there? I'm sorry, Steve, but occasionally, you have to sit one out.”

Steve took a deep breath, his body hunching up before it relaxed. He nodded and said, “Okay.”

Sam frowned. “Really?”

“Really,” Steve said quietly. “You're right.”

“Right. Well...good.” Sam reached out to cup the back of Steve's neck, smiling. He leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Then he pulled back and frowned. “You're going to run off the second my back is turned, aren't you?”

“Yes,” Steve immediately replied.

“ _Son of a bitch_. Fine. Let's get back out there and hopefully not get killed,” Sam said, throwing the remote onto the sofa.

Sam sulked, even when Steve stepped forward to kiss him, pulling him into a warm embrace. It started off a soft sweet kiss, a thank you, but then Bucky's room caught Sam's eye. He blinked at the room, whilst Steve held him and kissed him softly. Sam let his hands wander a little, dragging Steve right back into another kiss, this one more heated and hungry. It was Steve who pulled back, their lips separating with an audible pop, staring at Sam in confusion.

“What?” Sam whispered. Steve's eyes dipped down and back up again. He had clearly felt the little Falcon beginning to spread his wings. “People experience stress in different ways.”

Steve scowled. “You're hard because you're stressed?”

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe not. It's more like...I didn't think you'd ever lose in an arm wrestle, _any_ kind of wrestle.”

Steve's eyes widened as he stared. “What?”

Sam grimaced. “How do I put this? It was a little hot. Surprisingly. Wanting to ravish you on the kitchen counter _hot._ What? Sometimes I think about ravishing you, don’t look at me like that.”

Steve's eyebrows had climbed a few notches up. “I thought...I thought we do plenty ravishing.”

“ _You_ do plenty ravishing,” Sam said with a snort. “It's not exactly easy to ravish a guy like you. Kind of like going at it with an Energizer bunny on steroids.”

“And you think Bucky beating me in an arm wrestle-”

“Could present a unique opportunity,” Sam grabbed Steve by the front of his shirt and pulled him back in, kissing him with a smiling mouth, murmuring, “to wrestle you into submission.”

“What about Bucky?” Steve whispered. Sam sighed and pulled back, waiting as patiently as possible without asking, _what about Bucky_? “I don't want him to get into trouble because of me. I’ve hurt enough people-”

“ _Don't_ make this about everything that went down between you and Tony. We were all there, we all picked our sides, and believe it or not, your ass is not so tight that I would compromise what I believe in just for a piece of it.”

“Sam-”

“I know you worry about Bucky,” Sam cut him off. “You think he's holed up in here because he can't handle himself, but it's not about that. He's locked himself up in here because that's what he thinks he deserves. So, let him go out there. Let him be an Avenger. It's what you want, isn't it?”

Steve swallowed, looking away. Damn it, but he was going to go out there anyway. “He also bet me fifty dollars that you're too uptight to get naked in his apartment.”

Steve frowned at Sam. “Bucky said that?”

“He looked pretty smug about it,” Sam replied.

And there it was, the jaw clench of patriotic determination. God bless America, Sam thought, God _bless_ America.

*

“I’m not calling you a liar, but I kind of have trust issues, which means I sometimes find it hard to believe ex-Hydra scientists who are just trying to live a normal life in a nice house with a pretty wife, and two sweet kids.”

The weedy ex-Hydra scientist went very still and quiet. When you started talking about family most people in this situation decided to calm down. After a while, he stammered, “Look, what happened to you, I wasn’t-“

“No. Talking,” Bucky said calmly, ignoring the quick flush of heat in his face, the scramble of images in his mind. “Unless it’s to answer my questions. Hydra were working on an energy weapon to compromise Erskine’s serum. I know I’m not imagining it. In fact, my Swiss-cheese brain remembers being blasted by that thing.”

“I told you before, I wasn’t working on that project, I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” the scientist whined.

“Fine,” Bucky said. “Nice talk.”

He let go of the ankle in his metal hand, letting the weedy little man plummet over the side of the building. When he’d fallen a few feet, Bucky pulled back on the rope he had discreetly noosed around the man’s other ankle, and yanked him back, letting him dangle and yell in terror for a while, before pulling him back the whole way, dragging him onto the roof. The man wavered on his feet for a second before landing on his ass with a thump, his grey tie askew, his greying brown hair now speeding towards white. He was shaking under his white lab coat, legs in black pants splayed, his eyes glazed. He wasn’t going to get over this anytime soon. Falling was like that. It stayed with you long after the fall.

Bucky removed the rope and threw it aside, calmly telling the trembling man. “Next time you go over, no one’s pulling you back up. You know that’s not a threat.”

“They were looking for a way to replicate the serum.” The scientist swallowed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “They failed. They ended up with a way to switch off what was already there. So they refined it. For you. In case you went rogue. It’s out there because they're going to try to get you back.”

Bucky’s stomach turned with rage and something that might have felt like fear once. He hauled the scientist up on his feet and told him, “I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut about our little meeting. If you don’t, I _will_ come back. And next time, you’ll hit the ground.”

Though Bucky hadn't planned it, he couldn't help but leave Mr I Wasn't Working On The Project dangling over the side of the building. Sure, he had pleaded, and said things like 'stop' and 'no', but Bucky had a feeling that he had said those things too once, and Hydra had ignored his pleas and happily pushed him over the edge. They hadn't even given him something to hold on to. That he had to find himself.

*

Sam blinked sweat out of his eyes, patting the back of Steve's head, whose face was planted in the middle of Sam's chest. Sam's other hand was still pinned to the pillow in Steve's hot and sweaty grasp, in fact, Sam's whole body was under a mass of hot sweaty skin and muscle. Sam was staring up at the ceiling, getting his breath back, listening to Steve's breathing slowing down.

“Okay,” Sam said breathlessly. “So...”

Steve lifted his head and arched a brow, clearing his throat as he said, “Tell me again, why in his room?”

Sam shook his head. “I dunno. Clearly there are deep seated issues I need to think about”

Steve ducked his head. “Oh god.”

Sam's pants began to ring and vibrate, Steve getting up to fish out Sam's phone from his pocket, and answer. “It's Bucky. Buck. You okay?”

Sam sat up, watching Steve go from worried to annoyed. “What?”

Steve held the phone out and said, “He says if he wanted to talk to me, he would have called me.”

Sam tried not to smile as he took the phone. “Hey, man. News?”

“It's cute you answer each others phones,” Bucky said blandly. “I made a few calls, about Hydra weapons made for shooting super soldiers.”

“Wow,” Sam said blandly, “What grocery store are you using? Looks like they're selling a lot more than milk and potatoes.”

“Specifically for soldiers who go rogue. It uses a burst of radiation targeting the serum's ability to reproduce itself. It basically turns off the serum,” Bucky continued. Right, Sam thought, his voice caught in his throat as the implications set in. “You got that?”

“Yeah. I got it,” Sam said, clearing his throat, realising he had gone very still and very quiet. Steve was frowning at him with concern. “Go on.”

“Good news is, you can switch it back on,” Bucky said, something denting the tone of his voice. How do you know, Sam wanted to ask, how many times did they use it on you? How much do you remember? “I'm sending you decryption codes to access a Hydra grid which has the specs amongst some other files. Forward them to Stark in case I can’t get the blaster. Get Steve down there. It’s time to impose.”

“What's he saying?” Steve asked, forehead dented with worry, Sam having sat there before him not making a song. “Is he okay?”

“Got it,” Sam told Bucky, nodding at Steve. Steve sat down on the bed, and a spring loudly popped somewhere.

Bucky was quiet for a moment. “Are you having sex in my bedroom?”

“You said to distract him,” Sam replied. “I'm pretty sure _with sex_ was heavily implied _._ ”

“Bucky said that?” Steve asked. “You said...”

“I didn't think you actually would,” Bucky said. “Okay, you know what, just get to Stark. Oh and one more thing.”

“What?” Sam asked, whilst Steve muttered behind him, “I can't believe this.”

“Remember to check the windows and doors before you leave, and burn everything touched by your naked sweaty bodies,” Bucky said.

“Shut up, man.” Bucky hung up the way he always did, without a goodbye or further notice. Sam turned to look at Steve who had the audacity to stand there with hands on naked hips, admonishment poised on his lips. “Dude, _don't_. Just...put your pants on, we're leaving.”

“There was no bet, was there?” Steve asked.

“I was lying to you and distracting you with all this,” Sam said as he motioned to himself. Steve stared, mouth hanging open. “Hey, it worked, didn't it?”

Steve's mouth snapped back shut, gaze turning a little flinty. Only Captain America could be naked and manage to look that indignant and betrayed at the same time.

*

Bucky downed the remainder of his soda and placed the empty can next to him. He sniffed and turned another page in his book, everything quiet in the narrow alley below, the sound of traffic in the distance and the wind knocking around rubbish filtered out of Bucky's mind. He didn't hear any footsteps, or see any shadows, not even the slightest sound of a withheld breath. It was the tiniest hint of soap, toying with his senses before immediately disappearing.

“You just gonna stand there?” Bucky asked, casting an eye on the alley. “The being stealthy thing got old about twenty minutes ago.”

Romanoff sunk to the ground next to him. “It's really not polite to wave at the person tailing you.”

Bucky reached into his bag and pulled out a soda, handing it to Romanoff. She took it, looking at the alley as she opened the can and took a sip. “What have we got?”

“You tell me,” Bucky said.

Romanoff stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. In her jeans, oversized sweatshirt and her baseball cap, she looked like she was just enjoying a break on a sunny day, not tailing an ex-Hydra assassin.

Romanoff reached up to her ear. “Phil?”

Bucky went back to watching the large building, white-washed with large silver shutters. Next to the shutters was a metal door. Neither had opened since he'd been here. He already knew what Romanoff would tell him. The building was in the name of someone affiliated with Hydra. This was one of many innocuous looking Hydra outposts that masqueraded as businesses. They would find no major players, or important technology. What they would find would be a lower rung of criminals that did all the dirty work. At the end of the day, Hydra were no more than a bunch of rich thugs in suits.

“Miles Atherton,” Romanoff said after a moment. “Pharmaceuticals manufacturer. This is his newest factory. Looks like he's shutting up shop in Chicago to move here by the end of year. His name's linked to at least three top Hydra players. He's not on the top rung yet, but that's where he's headed. One of the guys you saw this morning, was here last night.”

Bucky frowned. The name Miles Atherton didn't bring up any red flags, but then a lot of his flags had gaping holes that hadn’t been sewn back together just yet. “They're probably using it as a temporary base of operation. They take what they need, use the place as a holding cell, and then quickly move out.”

“So you think whoever shot Steve is in there,” Romanoff said with a nod.

“I hope so,” Bucky said. “I just got Netflix. I was hoping to stay in tonight.”

When he turned to look at Romanoff, she had a bland look on her face. “I love Netflix.”

Bucky nodded, returning his attention to his book. “Maybe you should come over some time.”

He didn't see the smile, but he definitely heard it when Romanoff said, “Maybe I should.”

He allowed himself a small smile as he looked down into the alley again, Romanoff quietly drinking at his side, pulling his book from his hand. After a while, she sighed and said, “Really?”

Bucky shrugged. “I've got a list.”

“If it came from Clint, burn it,” she said. “I put a bullet through my copy.”

“No one forced you to read it, Romanoff,” Bucky said, levelling an amused smile at her.

Her mouth pursed mischievously, before widening. “It's not all bad. I just would have preferred it if he was the one being tied up instead of her.”

The memory came quick and sudden, like they always did. The present would disappear, and he would be back in Hydra's hands, acting on their command, creating chaos, or being stripped of control. Things he could not actively remember were the things that taunted him in these brief flashes of his past. This time his arms were restrained, and the drugs flowing through his system made it hard to struggle. Hands prodded at him, not caring that he was flesh and bone. In a room full of so-called humans, they had refused to see him as anything other than a machine.

Bucky blinked back to the present, turning and scrabbling away towards the corner of the rooftop, gripping the low wall as he puked his guts out. Romanoff crouched down somewhere between not too close, but not too far, remaining quiet as he finished his humiliation. Bucky turned his head away from the mess, shaking and sweating. Romanoff had guilt written all across her face, and the world looked a little more bleak than it should have. Bucky swallowed, slowly standing up on shaky legs.

They both slowly returned to their spots, away from the mess Bucky had made. Romanoff sat next to him, drawing up her legs, wrapping her arms around her knees as she watched him. “Sorry. I didn't realise-”

“That my cooking is that bad?” Bucky asked, mustering a smile, his voice croaking. “Well it is. Don't ever let me cook you eggs.”

“Barnes,” Romanoff said quietly, her tone prompting him, inviting, but not pushing.

Bucky shook his head. Now was not the time. Maybe there would never be time. Bucky picked up his book, looking at the cover. Harmless fun, he had thought. Not so much now. He flung the book into the air with his metal hand, and it travelled far, and out of sight. He turned to smile at Romanoff, “One less thing on the list.”

Romanoff mustered up a shaky smiled. “What's next?”

Bucky thought about it. “Barton suggested Bruce Springsteen.”

“But?”

“I dunno, I'm more of a Taylor Swift guy. She's got pep. I like pep,” he said quietly. Romanoff was watching him, openly breaking him down, adding him up. “What?”

“What are you doing?” she asked. “You really think anyone believes you're in that little apartment surfing the internet, watching TV, catching up on your reading and music?”

Bucky gave her a calm look, thinking he could easily spend his whole life without stepping outside again. He looked up at the blue sky, holding lazy clouds above the city, a steel-shiny memory prodding the corner of his mind. “Steve says when I was a kid, I wanted to see the future. Flying cars. Crazy gadgets. New worlds.”

“And now?”

Bucky chewed on his lip for a moment. “Space. Quiet.”

“That's all you want?” Romanoff asked, smart eyes reading him closely. “To stay in the shallow end? A man can drown in six inches of water, Barnes.”

“I'm sitting on top of a roof staking out a Hydra safehouse,” Bucky told her. “That's a little more than six inches of water, Romanoff.”

Romanoff nodded. “Just saying you should be careful. You don’t want to wade into the deep without realising it either.”

She looked away, her eyes focusing on the alley below, Bucky blinking at her, seeing the frown denting her forehead, her mouth now clamped shut. Bucky joined her in silent observation for a while. Secrets and fears were trembling under his skin, and his new metal arm felt as if it was shuddering. The phantom limb within it shaking without existing, non-existent muscles twitching in pain.

“You don't realise how much of a day the night takes up until you stop sleeping,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “Never occurs to you there's a part of your life spent entirely in the dark, until you're awake, waiting for something to come out of it. You know what I want? I want to sleep. That's what I want. A goddamn night's sleep.”

He grimaced, clenching his jaw tight on anything else might want to fly it's way out of Bucky's heart and to Romanoff's ears. He shoved a hand into his jacket, ignoring the subtle tremors running through him as he sought out his crumpled pack of cigarettes. Getting one out of the pack between his lips seem to go without incident, but his hand shook when he held up the lighter, unable to bring its flame to life.

A second before Bucky prepared to fling the lighter out of sight, Romanoff took it from his hand, lit his cigarette, and flipped the lid shut. They looked at each other silently for a while, Romanoff's usual mask momentarily askew. Her mouth twitched into a smile and she tilted her head at the lighter; he could almost see the second the mask slipped back into place. He could almost hear it click. The moment popped like a bubble at the sound of an engine, screeching of brakes. Bucky and Romanoff both turned to look.

In the alley below, a white van waited in front of the building Bucky had been watching, waiting as the shutters slowly lifted. Bucky looked at Romanoff. “You got any immediate plans?”

“No,” she replied with a tilted smile.

“Feel like taking a walk?” Bucky asked.

Romanoff’s smile spread wide, catlike and pleased.

*

Sam and Steve snuck out of Bucky's apartment in muted colours and baseball caps, but it seemed there was no one they needed to elude. Sam sat in the back of the taxi, chewing on his lip. Of course they weren't being followed. Steve had intercepted them before they ever found Bucky. They’d gone after one super soldier, and ruined another. Steve’s frame was changing, as if someone was slowly letting the air out of his muscles. Bucky’s t-shirt looked as if it had gained an inch of room over Steve’s chest.

When their ride came to a stop they were ushered straight into Avengers HQ, security informing them that Tony was on his way to see them. Steve looked tense. The battle was over, but hearts didn’t mend as fast as truces could be made. They walked in silence, until...

“What the _hell_?” Tony offered as a greeting, rounding the corner and walking straight into Steve. He was looking Steve up and down. Tilting his head and frowning. “New haircut?”

“Funny,” Steve said, with a small self-deprecating smile.

“Not a social call, huh?” Tony directed the question at Sam.

“I'm sorry we never write or call,” Sam said. “Did you crack the grid?”

“It’s more of a can-opener job, but we should have what we need in,” Tony looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes. Hopefully we’ll see exactly what that blast did. Though...I think I can hazard a guess.”

“It’s turning me back into my old self,” Steve said, the matter-of-fact statement betrayed by the tight expression on his face. “It's happening fast. I don’t think it’s going to take long for me to...well, return to being the real me.”

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but it was Sam who spoke. “We're going to figure this out. Even if we don't, the _real_ you isn’t about how tall or wide you are, or how hard you can land on your ass without breaking it.”

Steve stared at Sam in silence. It was Tony who responded with, “How come Pepper never says stuff like that to me?”

“Because she's smart,” Sam and Steve both replied at the same time.

“Huh,” Tony said. He sniffed. “It's cute that you do that. Makes me want to gag a little, but cute. Come on through.”

Ten minutes later, Steve was seated atop a stool and watching Tony slide towards him, placing his elbow on the workbench next to them, holding out his hand. “Let's go.”

Steve's brows went up in question and he turned to look at Sam, before frowning at Tony. “I don't follow.”

“Come on. Bring it. It's not every day I get to arm wrestle Captain America and win,” Tony said, wiggling his fingers. Steve smiled slightly, ducking his head instead of looking at Tony, who quietly added, “Bad choice of words.”

“Tony,” Steve started.

Tony swallowed. “Come on. Best out of three. Then I fix everything. Okay?”

The smile on Steve's face was soft. Sam just snorted and said, “You're gonna regret it. He's still pretty strong.”

Tony nodded. “And I bet you had fun finding that out.”

Sam gave Steve a stern look. “Kick his ass.”

*

“This!” Romanoff yelled, darting around the corner of an aisle stacked high with wooden boxes, “Is the worst date ever!”

“You’re not even trying to enjoy it!” Bucky yelled back, firing off two shots and seeing two Hydra drop from high up on a steel walkway. He skidded out of the way of a barrage of bullets, ending with his back up against a concrete wall. He quietly listened out for the soft concealment of footsteps.

“The service here is terrible!” Romanoff shouted.

Bucky heard the silent shift, attention being drawn away from him. He smirked, gave it a few seconds, and then walked out, body taut, arm out, gun firing. A shot glanced off his metal shoulder and without missing a beat, he turned, aimed and fired, watching another Hydra body hit the floor. The warehouse was small, the incursion unexpected, and the takeover quick.

Bucky watched as Romanoff shoved their one hostage onto a chair, standing over him with a look of boredom. He took up a place next to her, as she holstered her pistol. Bucky held onto his, pointing it at their prisoner's forehead. The man was young, somewhere in his early twenties, his blond hair too close to the white end of the spectrum, his blue eyes sulky and cold. He had a bright and harsh red cut on his bottom lip, and another above his eyebrow, courtesy of Romanoff.

“Whatever it is you want, you won't get it,” he said with a curl of his lip. “This is _Hydra_ you're messing with. This is the big leagues.”

Romanoff looked confused, her mouth pursed to speak. She looked at Bucky. “This...is embarrassing. I don’t think he knows who we are. You think they left Black Widow out of the Hydra orientation pack?”

Bucky shifted his arm, the plates moving like a ripple of water, whirring quietly. The man’s eyes widened as he looked at the metal arm and then at Romanoff. “Look, this is like my first week with these guys, and I'm not really sure if it's the life for me. So...y'know...how can I help you good people?”

“My friend here has good reason to believe a shiny Hydra toy was taken out of one of these containers in the last twenty-four hours. We want to know where it is.”

“Guys. You think a low level minion like me is going to know? Come on!”

Bucky pulled back the safety on his pistol and readjusted his aim so it was pointed between too very frightened eyes. The agent open his mouth to form a perfect O, his eyes firmly on the gun pointed at him, his finger lifting to point in another direction.

“Okay, you didn't let me finish. Of course _I_ don't know. But there’s a log for anything and anyone that comes in and out of this place. With the exception of trained assassins who break in through the roof.”

Romanoff smiled at Bucky. “Did you hear that, honey? Trained assassins. He really _has_ heard of us.”

“Guess that puts him back on the Christmas card list. Get up,” Bucky said, motioning with the gun.

The agent got up, hands in the air, turning and leading the way. They walked past a shot and groaning Hydra agent. “Hey, look, seeing as I'm helping you out, I'm hoping you guys are going to go easy on me.”

“Tell you what,” Bucky said. “If you talk only when asked to talk, maybe I'll just shoot you in the leg.”

Bucky could almost hear the agent open his mouth to object, before falling silent. Romanoff snorted, telling Bucky. “I really can't take you anywhere.”

*

Sam sat back in a disgustingly comfortable recliner. Tony had whisked Steve away for scans and tests, telling Sam to stay and relax, as if relaxing was possible. Sam almost objected at first, but Steve gave him a look, one that was hard to explain, but easy to understand. _Just go with it_ , it meant. Or sometimes, _let's just wait and see_. Sam swayed side to side in his chair, looking out of the huge window. What exactly was he going along with?

“Hey.” Sam swung in the direction of Pepper's voice. She was walking into the room, power-dressed and yet still exuding warmth, her friendly smile complimenting a perfect white suit. “I just tried to talk to Tony, but he says he's busy _interfering with Wilson's boyfriend_.”

Sam laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Locked you out too, huh?”

Pepper sat down on the couch to Sam's left, prompting him to swing his chair in her direction. She elegantly crossed her legs and leaned back. “I suppose it's about time they had some alone time _._ I know they officially got past what happened, but Tony's still been-”

“Miserable?” Sam asked.

“Pretty much,” Pepper conceded. She looked at Sam, giving him a small smile. “They love each other.”

“Yes they do,” Sam agreed slowly. There it was again, the love word. Tony _loved_ Steve. It wasn't a big deal. Love was not a big deal. Whatever level you were playing of the love game, it was _not_ a big deal.

“They're also idiots,” Pepper said, making Sam smile. She switched from light to serious with a sigh, sympathy creeping into her eyes. “Tony did update me on what happened this morning. He's going to be okay, you know? Tony's going to do everything he can.”

Sam nodded. “Sure. Tony's going to everything he can. So is Nat, and Bucky. Meanwhile, I'm just going to sit here. Do nothing.”

“Could you leave his side?” Pepper asked.

Sam mulled it over. He should have just walked out, put on his wings, and joined the search. And yet, the idea of not being close enough in case Steve needed him, it was as if someone had clipped those wings. Tony, Nat and Bucky were on this. He could be greedy and selfish. He could stay close to Steve. If things took a turn for the worst, he could be there by his side. Watch him. Protect him. Freak out quietly about how much he wanted to do all of those things.

“You think love makes people stupid?” Sam asked, frowning at Pepper.

“Well, based on some of the impromptu presents I’ve received from Tony,” Pepper said with a smile, “I would say yes. Definitely. Why? You feeling a little stupid?”

Sam rubbed his face with both his hands, sighing. When he dropped his hands back into his lap, he said, “Yeah. Not just a little.”

“Um, honey?”

Sam turned around towards Tony’s voice, all thought stuttering to a stop when he saw Steve. His clothes looked far too loose on him, his muscles lost somewhere inside them. He'd lost inches off his height in a few hours. His skin was a different kind of pale, almost bloodless.

“Oh my god,” Pepper said as Sam got up. Steve was staring right at him, jaw set defensively.

Tony looked from Sam and Pepper to Steve, pointing. “I shrunk the kid.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper said sternly, walking past Sam and going to Steve's side, standing two inches taller than him. “Steve. How are you feeling?”

Steve gave her an awkward smile. “I've had better days.”

Sam swallowed, his throat feeling tight. He looked at Tony. “What have you got?”

“Confirmation that Hydra are nothing more than lazy, opportunistic hacks,” Tony said with a tight little smile. His jaw twitched for a second. “Food. I need food. Let's eat and talk.”

Tony turned around and strode away, Pepper casting him a worried look. She smiled at Steve, and followed, catching up with Tony, both of them falling into quiet conversation. Steve looked in their direction and then smiled at Sam. “I could eat.”

Sam blinked at him, brows rising. He huffed out a small laugh and nodded. “Let's eat.”

*

“You think they still have it?” Romanoff asked, peering out of the window of the passenger side of the van they had borrowed.

Bucky was looking in the same direction, a building on the corner of the street where they were parked, four storeys high, reeking of bad landlords and roaches. Or maybe that was just another memory he wasn't quite acquainted with.

“They have it,” Bucky said. “And they're waiting.”

Romanoff turned to face him. “Waiting.”

Bucky tilted his head at her, surprised she hadn't already figured it out. “To get their property back. Steve was just the bonus. They brought their big guns out for me. A soldier they think they can control.”

“You're not their property,” Romanoff said, her voice laced with gravel, low and dangerous. The corner of her smile curved up, knife sharp. “They're going to find that out the hard way.”

Bucky smiled, surprising himself. He didn't smile often, laugh even less. And nothing about what Romanoff had just said was funny or amusing. It was just...something that felt as if it might have made _him_ smile, the old Bucky, the one who seemed to slip in and out of focus. Perhaps he would have grinned, thrilled by some girl making it her business to look out for him. Perhaps he would have smiled for her.

“You should do that more,” Romanoff said quietly, possibly unaware that her own expression was a rarity. Soft, open, and honest.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“Smile,” she said. “It suits you.”

“Haven't had a lot to smile about,” Bucky said, real amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth now. Romanoff was smirking at him.

“What are you smiling about now?” she asked.

Bucky's smile widened, mouth opening to fabricate something, but a thumping noise in the back of the van stopped him. He looked at Romanoff. “I think our guest’s a little bored.”

She nodded. “Time we found him some friends.”

*

Tony was talking at a hundred miles an hour, while Pepper was trying hard not to stare at Steve, the ever shrinking superhero. Sam meanwhile was very quietly and discretely freaking out behind his coffee cup. Tony locked eyes with him for a second, fell completely silent, and after a beat kicked straight back into gear, making Sam realise he probably wasn't being that discrete at all.

“In short,” Tony said, “looks like Hydra spent the best part of the Cold War desperately trying to replicate the serum in order to create an army of their own super soldiers. Unfortunately, they only got as far as finding the on and off switch on their own super soldier.”

“Bucky wasn’t _their_ super soldier,” Sam told Tony firmly, before Steve even had a chance to touch that raw nerve.

Tony took a deep breath and turned towards Steve, saying nothing. Pepper looked away, eyes on her coffee. When Sam looked at Steve, his mouth was tilted up in a sad smile. He pushed his coffee cup away and looked at Sam. “I think it’s time someone offered me a drink.”

*

Bucky held two pieces of the blaster in his hand, at least, the pieces that hadn’t been smashed in the gunfight with Hydra agents. Three operatives lay on the floor of the apartment, Romanoff relieving them of weapons. He could hear her walking around the small apartment, ordering a clean up crew on the phone. Bucky looked up from the metal and wire components he held.

“Cleaners are on their way,” Romanoff announced, tossing something in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky caught what looked like an ammunition clip, but something moved inside the casing, liquid, syrup thick. Something flickered in the corner of his memory, a slide and click, a whirr, the sound of a blast, the feeling of liquid heat in his veins.

“Barnes?”

Bucky handed Romanoff the clip back and looked around the room. There by the bed was another portion of the heavy blaster used on Steve. Bucky crouched down and picked it up, prying open part of the case, and sliding out an empty clip, like the one Romanoff had handed him. He held it up to show her.

“Well, the delivery system’s useless, but we still have this, the main ingredient.”

Romanoff nodded. “So we’ll just get Tony to do the delivering.”

Bucky stood up, pocketing the clip. “Yeah. Let’s go see how much of a genius he really is.”

As they walked past a groaning body, Romanoff grimaced and said, “He kind of really is though.”

Bucky pulled a face. “I know.”

*

Sam walked into Tony’s lab, where he had whisked Steve away for more observation and scans, finding Tony in the middle of a lit up simulation.

“Bucky and Nat are on their way,” Sam said. “They have what’s left of the...where’s Steve?”

“Too small and wasted to be in here. I asked Pepper to put him to bed,” Tony said absently.

“Put him to bed?” Sam blinked at Tony. “What is he? A toddler?”

“Close. Enough,” Tony said, arching his brow at twinkling code, before swiping it out of the air. Sam glared at him. After a while Tony sighed, deflating a little, frowning at Sam. “I was looking at the file on him, you know, before he... _bloomed_. It’s just a long list of everything that can go wrong going wrong. I’m surprised he didn’t have rickets. Or maybe I skipped a page.”

“Tony,” Sam said, hearing himself deliver the warning, but not quite sure what he was warning Tony against.

Tony was shaking his head. “Still has a ten foot attitude. Asked me if I wanted a rematch on that arm wrestle.”

“Yeah. Sounds about right,” Sam said. He sighed after a moment and said, “Think you’ll be able to zap him back?”

“Now that we have more than just the specs, yeah,” Tony said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that guy full or fun sized, but it’s easier watching him be reckless when he thinks he’s indestructible.”

“Yeah,” Sam said slowly. “It really isn’t.”

“What?” Tony asked with a slight frown, shoving a screen aside with his foot.

“Watching him be reckless,” Sam said quietly. “Not even a little bit easy.”

Tony was quiet, a taut expression on his face. “Get out of here, will you? I got work to do.”

Sam nodded, knowing now was not the time to prod at wounds that might never heal. Tony had turned his back on Sam, under the guise of waving away another calculation not to his liking. Sam left the lab, finding his way to Steve’s temporary room, where he found Steve staring at himself in front of a full length mirror. His sweatshirt was in his hands, and his sweatpants were tied tight around his narrow hips. Somehow, he seemed younger, his eyes too large for his head.

Steve had noticed Sam, and turned to look at him. His smile was soft, softened by the empty bottle of Tequila that sat on the dresser. Sam nodded to it and said, “How are you still standing with all that in you?”

“Can’t really tell if I’m standing or lying down actually,” he said, words slurring ever so slightly.

“Okay, that’s not good,” Sam said with a smile, approaching Steve, stopping when it seemed he might end up towering over him. Sam looked at the mirror and softly asked, “What are you doing?”

Steve turned partially back towards the mirror, his gaze challengingly fix on his own reflection. “Getting reacquainted with someone I used to know.”

“Don’t mind putting a word in for me, do you? Your friend’s pretty cute,” Sam said. Steve turned and gave him a look so bland, it could rival Bucky’s state of constant disgruntlement. “What? I’m serious.”

Steve looked away, putting on the sweatshirt which still seemed slightly too roomy. “Sure you are.”

“Is that so hard to believe? Someone could want you like this? What are you, some kind of size queen?” Sam asked, receiving a quiet little drunken hum of a laugh.

“Experience tells me, this is not what people look for in a partner,” Steve said, pointing at himself.

“I’m not people, dude, I happen to love you.” Steve stared, blinking. Sam’s mouth had suddenly gone dry. “All right. I wasn’t planning on laying that on you right now, but...I do. I’m in love with you. Right now, the way you look. Yesterday. Most likely tomorrow too.”

Steve smiled a definitely happy-drunk smile. “You are?”

“I am. As in yes, as in affirmative, _Captain,_ ” Sam said, grinning and stepping forward to kiss Steve, driven forward by the sudden momentum of a secret released.

When they pulled apart, Steve wobbled slightly, his hand grabbing onto the front of Sam’s jacket. “You are...a very attractive man. And good. You are a good man, Sam Wilson. One of the best. You’re...I really...I really do love you. Back. And front.”

Steve was frowning at Sam, as if the realisation had just sprung itself on him. He smiled brightly, clumsily patting Sam’s cheek, before falling to the floor with a light thump. Sam frowned at Steve who lay partially passed out at his feet.

"Back and front," Sam nodded and muttered, “For your sake, I hope this room doesn’t have security cameras in it.”

*

Tony met them on arrival, watching them as they walked towards him, Romanoff in front, with Bucky following close behind. Vendettas were on hold for now, but Bucky wasn’t altogether sure if Tony would ever forgive him. Bucky knew his exchanges with Tony would never move beyond barely cordial, but he had accepted that like he had accepted a lot of things about his life.

“That the embiggening machine?” Tony asked Romanoff, lifting his chin in the direction of the rucksack Bucky was holding.

Romanoff nodded, taking it from Bucky and handing it to Tony. Bucky reached into his pocket for the cartridge he had extracted, tossing it in Tony’s direction. Tony caught it and held it up, peering at it up in the light, until its slow moving liquid contents became more visible.

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” he said, bringing it down.

“I’ll stay here,” Bucky told Romanoff.

“That’s not necessary.” Looking at Romanoff, Tony said, “Two-for-one assassins amnesty at the chocolate factory today.”

Bucky frowned at Tony, but Tony said no more, unreadable. Bucky nodded. “Thanks.”

“Whatever. Let’s go inflate the ever-shrinking Cap.” Tony chattered all the way back into the complex, his chatter mostly directed at Romanoff, until Sam came into view carrying Steve over his shoulder. "What the..."

Bucky stopped in his tracks, his gaze locked on the figure hanging from Sam's hold. It was strange seeing him again, that skinny kid from Brooklyn, the guy who lived as a faded ghost at the back of his mind. Someone whispered the name Steve, and Bucky felt the weight of it in his mouth, the scrape of it in his throat. The past had never felt so achingly far away.

"Barnes?" Romanoff stepped in front of him, not that it blocked his view at all. Her hand was on his flesh arm, squeezing softly. He dipped his gaze to look at her when she said, "Bucky?"

When his mind cleared, he saw Tony had turned to look at him too, watching his face intently.

"Yeah," Bucky said, hoping it translated as _I'm okay_ , knowing that if anyone was smart enough to read the answer, it was her. Bucky looked at Sam and asked, "What the hell happened?"

"Your boy got drunk and passed out," Sam said.

“I am not passed out,” Steve murmured, his tone definitely challenging. “I can drink you under the table any day, Wilson.”

"You let him get drunk?" Bucky asked, eyeing the limp figure. “You were supposed to be watching him.”

"I am going to laugh my ass off when you remember how stubborn this guy is," Sam said dryly. “You know he challenged me to an arm wrestle on the way here?”

“Hey, buddy, you doing okay?” Tony asked, tilting his head as far as he could to catch Steve’s line of sight.

“I’m really glad fellas can marry each other,” Steve said after a long and thoughtful pause.

Tony straightened up, mouth slightly open as he turned on his heel to look at Sam. Sam had gone very still and quiet, whilst Romanoff opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it with a small smile, which she hid from Sam.

Sam looked at Tony. "We standing out here all day?"

“No. Of course not. This way,” Tony said, smiling and adding, “dearly beloved. Since we are gathered here.”

Sam rolled his eyes and followed, Romanoff up ahead with Tony, Bucky following behind, watching the limp body thrown over Sam’s shoulder. Bucky thought he could hear a voice, clear and unburdened, full of laughter and bravado. It took a moment to realise it was his own voice, a memory of laughter, of teasing his friend. He walked behind the others unable to look away from Steve.

When they reached the medical lab, Sam carefully deposited Steve on a bad, stepping back and letting Tony’s staff start their work. They were hooking Steve up to wires, and turning on monitors. A light in Bucky’s mind shimmered, and he squeezed his eyes shut everytime he felt a remembered pinprick of a needle, the whirr of machinery right in his ear, the harsh light of screens in the periphery of his vision.

Bucky slowly turned around and left, walking until the corridor brought him to a large window that showed him the sky, the trees, green and blue. Staring at the glass, he could see a barely there outline of his reflection. There was a lot he didn’t remember, but the strangest thing of all was, sometimes he didn’t even recognise himself. This was not a face he knew well, a face Hydra didn’t need him to see. He was as much a foreigner to himself, as to everything around him.

“Hey.” Bucky’s mouth twitched up at the sound of Romanoff’s voice. “You okay?”

Bucky nodded, his jaw working, clenched against waves of emotion he couldn’t even begin to navigate. _Okay_ seemed like such a small word to describe how he felt. “You see him?”

“Yeah,” Romanoff said softly.

There was a memory dancing at the corners of Bucky’s mind, teasing him, making him stand still until he caught it by the tail. “He used to pick fights with guys twice his size. All bones and attitude. Never got tired of bleeding.”

“Sounds familiar,” Romanoff said. “Only, now it’s all muscle and attitude.”

Bucky nodded, turning to look at Romanoff. “Right.”

“What did you see?” Romanoff asked him quietly. “When you were watching Steve?”

Bucky felt caught between wanting to tell her, and pretending it never happened. He frowned, asking her, “Do you know what it’s like to be taken apart and to be re-made?”

Romanoff’s expression was soft, a little lost. She answered, “Yes.”

That Romanoff might know even a little of what he felt, bothered him, and he wished she had said she didn’t have a clue. Bucky’s fingers flexed by his side, curling into a fist. Romanoff stood her ground, her eyes moving across his face, reading him line by line. Bucky was sure neither of them had moved, but the distance between them seemed too little and closing still.

“Everything okay?” Sam called down the corridor.

Bucky blinked out of his stupor, shifting his gaze away from her, Romanoff moving in synchronisation, doing the same but in the opposite direction as she replied to Sam. “You tell me.”

Bucky turned to see Sam walking towards them, looking exhausted. “Tony says it could take some time. All we can do is wait.”

“Drink?” Romanoff suggested.

“Drink,” Bucky and Sam agreed.

*

Sam put his bottle of beer on the coffee table. He had been sitting in the lounge with Bucky and Natasha for four hours. The moon was out, round and heavy in the deep black sky, surrounded by a scattering of stars. Natasha was curled up on the couch, her leather jacket thrown over the back of the couch, boots discarded on the floor. Bucky sat on an adjoining couch, metal arm stretched out, one leg crossed over the other, eyes absently drifting to Natasha’s sleeping form.

Sam watched Bucky for a while. He thought back to the photographs he’d seen in the file Natasha had once handed Steve. Sitting before him, Bucky looked older than his years. He’d gone to war, a fresh-faced boy, disappeared into a cold abyss, stripped of his identity and humanity, and now sat before Sam looking like every man who had returned from war with more ghosts than he could handle. Steve had seen change in his life, but Bucky, Bucky’s life had been ripped apart and sewn back together inside out. It made Sam a little mad. Maybe a little more than mad.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. Bucky looked away from Natasha and gave Sam a questioning look. “For today.”

Bucky looked neither offended, nor moved by the thanks, just thoughtful. He frowned and said, “I didn’t know two fellas could get hitched.”

Sam stared at Bucky and then noticed the corner of his mouth twitch up a little. He gave Bucky a bland look, telling him, “You’re a dick, man.”

Bucky’s mouth spread into a smile, complete with a flash of teeth, and suddenly Sam saw him clearly, that other kid from Brooklyn who wore a uniform well, and grinned with foolish bravado. He was still in there somewhere. Sam let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, saved from further rumination at the sound of a high-pitched whistle. He turned his head to look over the couch, seeing Tony half in and half out of the room.

“He’s up,” he said, looking serious. “It’s not good news.”

Sam was up in a heartbeat, leaving Bucky to wake Natasha and bring her. He ran to the medical lab, coming to an abrupt stop when he saw Steve lying in his bed, very much himself again, and scowling hard. Sam turned to glare at Tony who said, “Sorry, looks like we don’t get to keep the fun-sized Steve Rogers.”

Steve gave them all a dazed look. “What happened?”

“You got drunk, proposed to Wilson and freaked him out, and then your mom turned up to chew us all out.”

“What the hell man?” Sam said shaking his head at Tony.

“ _Correct_ me where I'm wrong, I dare you,” Tony responded.

Bucky was frowning at Romanoff, quietly asking her, “Are you his mom?”

“Pretty sure Tony meant you,” Romanoff said.

“What...what did I propose?” Steve asked, squinting as he rubbed his forehead.

Sam turned and looked at the others, eyes wide and pleading for assistance. A room had never emptied so quickly, Tony suddenly needing to check a thing that sounded made up, and Romanoff needing to ask Bucky an urgent question. Sam watched him being pulled out of the room, glancing back at Sam with a shrug.

“Assholes,” Sam muttered, before turning to see Steve slowly sitting up. “So, we might have told each other we love each other and then I think you accidentally asked me to marry you. Oh, and in case you don’t remember, you lost a few arm wrestles.”

Steve stilled, mouth falling open, before he slowly said, “I’m going to lie back down for a while.”

*

“I wish I’d stayed in there,” Romanoff said out in the corridor with a sly grin.

“I think we can get a lot of mileage out of what we already have,” Tony told her. “Don’t be greedy.”

He had turned from the door with a big grin that predictably faded when he caught sight of Bucky. His mouth clamped shut tight, jaw working a little, as he turned his gaze to Romanoff, trying to retain the façade of his now disappeared good mood. The smile on Romanoff’s face wasn’t entirely real either, having caught the way Bucky’s presence had drained the moment of humour. Tony’s body tensed, twisting to leave, mouth opening to excuse himself.

“I should go,” Bucky told Tony, catching his attention. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“You’re his friend,” Tony said after a moment’s pause. His eyes flicked to some memory Bucky wasn’t privy to, Tony’s mouth half-curling into a pained smile. “About that, Steve has been very clear.”

He held Bucky’s gaze for a moment, before looking at Romanoff with another fabricated smile, and striding off down the corridor. Bucky looked at Romanoff after a moment, smiling slightly. “I’ll see you around, Romanoff.”

She smiled back softly, sympathy in deadly Black Widow eyes. “See you around, Barnes.”

Looking at her, Bucky’s smile felt a little less unreal, a little more willing. He walked away with it remaining on his face for a while, keeping away those thoughts that always hung around ready to haunt. He thought of her, and he thought of Sam, and he thought of Steve. He thought even of Tony who had every right to turn him away rather than endure his presence. He thought of this world where he could have a life one day without Hydra’s poison in his body and in his mind. By the time he reached his apartment and checked the third lock on his door, he thought he might even get a decent night’s sleep one day.

*

Sam sighed with contentment. Steve was okay. Tony hadn’t turfed them back out on to the street and into the no-man’s land of post-war reconciliation, giving them a room to rest up, and Bucky had allowed himself a rare day of release from his self-imposed exile. To top it off, telling Steve Sam loved him hadn’t made Steve disappear into a mist of duty over happiness. Sam smiled, marking it as a good day, sighing as Steve’s lips ghosted over his shoulder slowly, kisses becoming a little distracted.

"You need to learn to turn that brain of yours off." Steve's mouth stilled and he propped his chin up on Sam's shoulder, blinking at him. It was strange, but Sam thought he could see two versions of Steve at the same time, past and present blended. "What's on your mind?"

Humour danced brightly in Steve’s eyes. Sam reached out to wipe a line of sweat that neatly moulded to the strong angles of Steve's face, his thumb stroking down slowly, until he was gently scratching at Steve's chin. "I feel a little bad I robbed you of the opportunity to ravish."

"I'm not complaining. Letting you do all the work is not a problem," Sam said, a laugh bubbling out him. Steve smiled, but right there at the corners of his eyes was something weighing him down, something he was keeping all to himself. "You know, I saw an old picture of yours, so I knew you were a pretty boy. Didn't realise how much until today."

Steve frowned, mouth opening in a surprised smile. "Pretty boy?" Sam nodded, rolling Steve over onto his back with a grunt. Steve sighed and gave him a humouring look. Sam propped himself up at Steve's side, looking down at his face. "Yeah, you heard me, pretty boy."

Steve was blinking up somewhere past Sam, amusement toying with his unsure smile. "Pretty boy. Last time I heard that it was in an alley round the side of a hardware store. This guy was was angry because I called him out in front of his girl, told him being a bully didn't make him a man. He shoved me down that alley and said, I'm going to tell you what being a man is all about...pretty boy."

Sam shook his head, aware that his anger at strangers lost to time was impotent, but feeling angry all the same. "What did you do?"

"Got knocked down. Kept getting back up," Steve said, smiling and filling Sam with quiet infuriation. "Next thing I know, someone's told Ma and she's there with Bucky. She's shouting at me, he's taking on some guy twice his size. I get away from Ma to help Bucky and then she's shouting at both of us, but hitting the guy too."

Steve grinned, bright and joyful. Something unclenched in Sam's chest. Steve hadn't been alone then, or weak, or afraid. He had been as strong as he was now, nothing had changed at all about his will or his stubbornness. He smiled at Steve. "What happened then?"

"Ma took us both home, cleaned our wounds, and then shouted at us a little more. We were fifteen and so proud of each other," Steve said, still looking proud.

“Assholes,” Sam said fondly. Steve stared at him silently, reaching up to lightly stroke his fingers down Sam’s cheek. Sam ducked his head and slowly kissed Steve, smoothing his hand down Steve's arm until they met hand to hand, slotting their fingers together. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Steve’s for a moment, before pulling back and smiling at him. “You’re both still assholes, by the way, you do know that, right?”

Steve’s eyes flicked to Sam’s mouth as he smiled, before he wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and rolled them both over, pinning Sam beneath him and answering, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam stretched his arms out with a sigh, smiling at the feeling of kisses trailing down his chest. “Sure you don’t, pretty boy, sure you don’t.”

*

Bucky tried to ignore the knocking on the door, but there was a certain determined sound to it that told Bucky it wasn’t going to go away. He sighed heavily and threw aside his book. When he pulled the door open it was so hard that everyone on the other side look at him at the same time. Everyone being three young boys and Steve. Bucky stared at the children closely, one of them skinny with a mop of dark hair, another pudgy-faced and blonde, and finally a boy with an incredibly intense gaze and a soft small halo of black hair.

“No,” Bucky said, looking at Steve very firmly.

“Seriously?” the little boy with the too serious gaze said.

“It’s not polite to interrupt adults when they’re talking, Samuel,” Bucky told him.

“Idiot,” Sam replied.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin at Steve. “Well this is new.”

But Steve was staring at Bucky as though he had grown another head. “You shaved.”

“I shaved,” Bucky said flatly, as Steve's eyes travelled up to Bucky head.

“What happened to your hair?” Steve asked with a frown.

“It's called a haircut, Steven,” Bucky said, ignoring the strange smile that spread on Steve's face. “The answer's still no.”

“Forget this, there are plenty of places we can lay low,” the dark-haired boy said, before peering into the apartment. “Places that don't feature on the news.”

“Tony,” Steve warned.

“I got no problem hitting kids,” Bucky told Steve with a smile.

“Bucky!” Steve said, adorably surprised.

Tony turned to Steve, pointing at Bucky. “He touched me in a bad place.”

“ _Tony!”_ Steve said, bringing to Bucky’s mind a memory of Steve's mother, wearing that same scandalised expression, bringing with it a warmth that spread through his chest like water.

“Dude, you need to dial it down,” Sam told Tony, as the blond boy next to him bemoaned miserably, “Loki has gone too far this time.”

Tony stared at him. “Really, Thor? Your mass-murdering psychotic brother has gone _too_ far? _This_ time?”

“Okay. Fine. Take this inside,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

Steve sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead, shoving the door open and prodding Thor towards it, who prodded Tony, Sam already ahead of them. Bucky folded his arms across his chest and waited for the explanation.

“Loki,” Steve said. “He...de-aged them and they can't stay at Avengers HQ because...the building is trying to kill everyone.”

“What does Loki want?” Bucky asked. “Wait the building’s what?”

“Long story. Best case scenario, Loki's bored. Worst, he’s distracting us from something else,” Steve said, frowning at the noises within the apartment. After a moment his expression eased and he said, “I bought an espresso machine. Turns out shopping at three in the morning makes a lot of sense.”

Inside Bucky's apartment, something definitely smashed and broke. Bucky opened his mouth to complain, but Steve beat him to it.

“ _Do_ _n’t_ make me come in there!” Bucky arched a brow at him. Steve told him, “They're driving me up the wall, Buck.”

“Well, you shoulda' been more careful, pal,” Bucky said with a grin. It should have made Steve laugh, but his brief smile was quickly stained by the inky hand that had written right over the lives they should have had. Bucky reached out and put a consoling hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing it. “Come on.”

They walked into the apartment to find Thor and Tony arguing, mighty words spilling in high pitched voices, Steve joining their argument. Bucky walked slowly into the kitchen, one eye on Sam. He was about to make fresh coffee, but immediately disliked the idea of mini-Avengers hyper on caffeine. He pulled out a box of cereal from one of the cupboards instead, sticking his hand into it before shovelling Coco Pops into his mouth, crunching loudly as he came to a stop opposite Sam.

Sam looked up, tilting his head at Bucky, glaring with his angelic features “Take a picture. It'll last longer.”

Bucky slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, holding it up and taking a picture. “No offence, Birdman, but you are ten kinds of adorable right now.”

“Dude? We don't have time for this,” Sam said firmly. “Whatever Loki's done to us, it's changing us from the inside too. I can feel it. This time tomorrow, we're going to be sitting here fighting over the last Lego piece if you and Cap don't come up with a plan.”

Bucky ate some more Coco Pops. “You mean, if Cap doesn't come up with a plan.”

Sam gave him an impatient look, somehow managing to look stern despite being a bundle of cute. “Enough with the loner act and disappearing to the grocery store for moody vigilantes. Cap trusts you. We all trust you. You don’t have to work alone.”

Bucky nodded. “Sure. Until Hydra turn up and turn me into some kind of ticking time bomb and all of you into ex-Avengers.”

“Hey, if Hydra want to get to you, they’re going to have to come through us first,” Sam said with conviction, meaning every word. It would have been moving if the words hadn’t come from such a cute little kid. Bucky grinned and Sam glared at him. “I hate you so much right now.”

A knock at the door sounded and Bucky left Sam angrily eating Coco Pops as he opened it to find Barton. “Hey. I’m Kimberly, your babysitter?”

Bucky stepped back with a small smile, letting Barton in, watching as he headed straight to the kitchen, where Sam immediately told him, “I am warning you. Do _not_.”

Bucky stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strode over to Steve who was checking his phone, whilst Tony sat on the couch tapping furiously at his laptop, Thor next to him, looking miserably at the hammer by his side.

“So. Cap,” Bucky said, stopping in front of Steve, “Falcon says we need a plan.”

Steve looked at Bucky, surprise followed by a small soft smile spreading on his face. “He does?”

“He does,” Bucky said dryly. “He’s a smart kid. We really should listen to him.”

Steve grinned and words tumbled to the front of Bucky’s tongue, held back by the inability to place them into some context, dissolving before escaping. All he knew was this - there was a part of him that without ever discovering the reasons would still follow Steve Rogers anywhere.

\- the end -

**Author's Note:**

> [Offer me some Coco Pops over here](http://dvswraatins.tumblr.com/post/144526399899/left-right-left-right-bucky-samsteve).


End file.
